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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29547207">Slipping under the weight of the world</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyHereForTheSnacks/pseuds/OnlyHereForTheSnacks'>OnlyHereForTheSnacks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Morally Grey Albus Dumbledore, Multi, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:01:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,424</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29547207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyHereForTheSnacks/pseuds/OnlyHereForTheSnacks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry struggles to save the world when faced with political maneuverings, dark magic, and trauma. <br/>Lucius Malfoy takes matters into his own hands when it comes to the Boy Who Lived <br/>Slow burn Drarry beginning first year</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Where is the Boy Who Lived?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> June 31st 1991 </em>
</p><p>On  Harry Potter's 11th birthday he was sent 16,212 presents. This in itself wasn't unusual. Witches and wizards from across all of Europe had sent The Boy Who Lived gifts to celebrate his birthday and many holidays throughout his life. It was more on his 11th birthday than ever before, but this too wasn't unusual considering the circumstances.  What <em> was </em> unusual was the fact that Harry didn't <em> receive </em>any of those presents on his birthday. In fact he only received one birthday gift that year. Unknown to him, every owl was redirected to the Potter Family Estate, and each gift was cataloged by the dutiful house elves that awaited his return.</p><p>He would shortly be back in the public eye after many years hidden away. </p><p>The media had been frenzied with speculation for weeks.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Where is the Boy Who Lived Now?</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> By Rita Skeeter </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This year's incoming class will include Harry James Potter, also known as The Boy Who Lived. Family friends have revealed that his name has been down on the Hogwarts registry since his birth. His parents Lily and James Potter wanted their son to have the opportunity to attend the premier wizarding school in Britain where they fell in love.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After that tragic Halloween in 1981, news quickly spread of Harry’s miraculous triumph over He-who-must-not-be-named [for the whole story see page 12]. With the sudden death of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter in April of 1980 (a mere 3 months before his birth), Harry Potter was left with no living relatives. Normally this wouldn't be an issue as the Potters had named godparents to care for young Harry and their estate until he came of age. Yet it seems there was no shortage of tragedy in the aftermath of The War as Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, was found to be complicit in the Potters’ murder. For an unknown reason Harry was not placed with his godmother, Alice Longbottom, immediately after the events of Halloween. This turned out to be a fortunate occurrence because The Longbottoms were attacked themselves shortly after. This left Frank and Alice unable to assume custody of the last Potter, as well as leaving the care of their own son the Longbottom heir in the hands of his grandmother. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Potters’ Last Will and Testament was never recovered, and while one must assume there is a copy in one of the Potter Family Vaults, they cannot be accessed without either a Potter or a Regent there on their behalf. After questioning the office of Orphan Affairs in the Ministry of Magic, they have been unwilling to provide a comment on the lack of public record regarding Harry’s placement. Were the records sealed to protect him? Or is there a more nefarious plot to be uncovered? There have been mentions of the Potters' various properties and business assets being neglected and no sign of a Regent to look after their political interests. This rather unfortunate series of events and mysteries left me with several unanswered questions. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Where did he go after that night? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why wasn't he immediately placed with his Godmother?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And most importantly:  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Where is he now?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Lucius Malfoy set down the morning paper and called for his son, the wheels already turning in his mind. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. He would take full advantage of the situation, any as any good Slytherin would.</p><p>Draco walked into his father’s study with a guarded curiosity. He had always been wary of his father. From a young age he was taught how to be the perfect pureblood son. </p><p>And what happened when he failed to achieve perfection.</p><p>Draco sat in the chair across from the large polished antique desk keeping his back straight and making sure to look his father in the eyes. </p><p>“Tomorrow you will be getting your school supplies-”</p><p>Draco let out an excited whoop before quickly composing himself under Lucius’ sharp look. </p><p>“You will read all of your textbooks before the start of term. You will make friends with all of the prominent members of your year and maintain exceptional grades.” This was of course an order. Not a suggestion. </p><p>“Yes, sir.” but the excitement was already returning and Draco was having trouble keeping the wide grin off his face. Hogwarts! It was <em> really </em> happening. He had always known that he would go to Hogwarts, his father was on the board of directors after all, but he couldn't believe it would finally be happening this year. He would finally be leaving the cold empty halls of Malfoy Manor. </p><p>“Inform your mother that she will be required to accompany you into Diagon Alley. I have far too much to do,” Lucius finished flatly. He pulled out a leather bound notebook to begin working on his plans. He only looked up when Draco’s small shadow wavered over his desk. “What?”</p><p>Draco knew that tone. He almost changed his mind about arguing but for his mother’s sake he knew he had to. “Perhaps you could take me when you have time?” Draco started in small voice that quivered as his father’s face turned to stone “It's only… Mother has not been feeling well and-” </p><p>Lucius cut off his son's pathetic plea, drawing his wand as his temper flared. “I am much too busy to deal with your insistent whining”. As his voice rose sparks shot out of his wand nearly landing on Draco’s exposed arm. “You will go inform your mother immediately”.</p><p>As Draco scurried out of the study Lucius began working on his plan. He had a number of owls to send tonight. </p><p>How fortuitous that his son would be in the same year as Harry Potter.</p><p>oOo</p><p>Harry was surprised that he was a wizard to say the least. </p><p>Then again, he had always known he was different. It wasn't that hard to accept magic as the reason. </p><p>His Uncle's reaction to the letters made sense now. The shouting, the last minute road trip, the tiny island cabin. He had been afraid that Uncle Vernon would hurt the gentle giant Hagrid but it quickly faded as Uncle Vernon's usual furious sneer was replaced by a fearful one. </p><p>Hagrid had promised to take him into London the next day to buy school supplies, although where in London a magic wand could be purchased was a mystery. How could he sleep when there was so much to think about? He wondered if he would make friends at his new school, far away from his bullying cousin. Regardless it would be a fresh start. A chance to finally be able to be a carefree child. </p><p>As he lay under Hagrid’s ginormous fur coat he wondered what lay in store. Would it be like the Disney movies that his aunt wouldn't let him watch? Or the old spooky Grimms tales he had come across in the school library, reading instead of going outside with Dudley? </p><p>Sleepy visions of magic wands, witches on brooms, and evil wizards began to swim before his eyes. As sleep threatened to overwhelm him he had one last coherent thought. </p><p>Anything would be better than life with the Dursleys on Privet Drive. </p><p><em> Anything </em>. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The lightening shaped scar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Dear Albus,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I understand that you have promised Lily’s sister limited contact from the Wizarding world and I have respected that for many years however I think it is time that you allow me to meet him. Someone will have to introduce him to our world and take him school shopping. I know that this task is usually delegated to Minerva for Muggle-born students but I had hoped in these circumstances you would allow me. When James and Lily began dating, Lily used to take us into the muggle world to go to the cinema and restaurants. It seemed like a grand adventure to us then. I met Lily's sister Petunia and her now- husband Dursley at one such outing--perhaps a familiar face would help to ease the transition.  Since then I have lived much of my life with Muggles due to my circumstances so I would have no trouble guiding Harry and understanding his life thus far. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I hope to hear back from you soon.  </em>
</p><p><em> Remus. </em> </p><p>Albus Dumbledore sighed as he re-read the letter on his desk. </p><p>He had sent back a reply explaining that he already had it under control. Harry would have a friendly and competent guide to the wizarding world. Besides, as much as Harry would surely love hearing stories about his parents it might be hard for him to process right now. There was so much going on in his life. Maybe next year. </p><p>Remus often sent requests to contact Harry. Every summer he asked for his birthday presents to be let through the redirection ward. Every Halloween he asked to be allowed to see the boy, to tell him about his parents, to send a letter. But Albus wouldn't, <em> couldn't </em>, allow that. Harry needed to be safe. And more importantly he needed to grow up away from the fame his name carried in the wizarding world. No. It wouldn't do.</p><p>Remus wasn’t the only one of the Potters’ old friends to reach out to him about meeting the boy, but he was the most persistent. Minerva was a close second. Every time either of them asked about it he would firmly remind them that he promised Petunia minimal contact. She would be allowed to raise the boy however she saw fit until Hogwarts. Besides, he would continue, he had someone watching the boy. </p><p>Arabella Figg was a squib. Petunia wouldn't realize she was being watched by the magical world because Arabella couldn't <em> do </em> magic. It was one of Albus’ more genius plans. Arabella volunteered to babysit the boy from time to time which gave Albus a means to monitor The Scar. Arabella had given reports on the boy’s wellbeing when he was younger as well. He was a smart boy, perhaps a little thin but Albus knew how picky children could be. He was adventurous, a great sign even though he seemed to be accident prone. There was some trouble with accidental magic when he was a baby but it quickly resolved itself, faster in fact than most. She had once reported that the boy seemed unhappy, less loved perhaps than his cousin, but this was fine Albus thought. In fact he was sure it would help young Harry grow into an unspoiled, generous, maybe even <em> heroic </em> boy. He was obviously flourishing under the Dursleys' care and more importantly he was <em> safe </em> within the blood wards. </p><p>oOo</p><p>“Mother?” Draco called, softly rapping his knuckles on the door. “Are you ready to go?”</p><p>“ Of course!” his mother responded, sweeping through the doorway in vibrant blue robes. </p><p>They would be going straight to Diagon Alley and had no need to interact with any Muggles today.</p><p>“You have your book list, darling?” </p><p>“Yes, Right here.” Draco indicated the parchment in his hand. </p><p>A palpable sense of relief flooded him at seeing his mother. He had worried she wouldn't feel well enough to accompany him today. He knew any mention of her days in bed would be met with embarrassment or, in the case of his father, anger. Instead he simply complimented her on her outfit and gripped her hand in anticipation of apperating. </p><p>Diagon Alley was a flurry of activity, as it always was after the school letters were sent out. The familiar cobbled street twisted and turned, every shop different from the next. Bright signs and cheerful voices came from every direction. It was, Draco thought, a chaotic and beautiful sight so different from the orderly gardens and marble halls of the Malfoy Estate. </p><p>When he was younger he used to beg his mother to take him with her on her shopping trips, he didn't even mind waiting for her to be fitted for new robes and gowns. He would feel the different textures of fabric and look at all of the interesting people and just enjoy the time they spent together. But those outings grew less and less frequent as the years went by. His father insisted as he grew older that he spend his time learning important traditions, magical theory, political maneuverings. He knew that his friends, children of his father’s associates, learned much of the same. </p><p>His mother gestured for the list and looked down at the materials he would need. “We should get you some new robes for school and perhaps an Owl?”</p><p>“Can we please get my wand first?” Draco pleaded. He had played with his mother’s wand on occasion as a child. And his father’s. Once. </p><p>She gave him an indulgent smile before agreeing. Children were always impatient to get their first wand. </p><p>Ollivanders was exactly the opposite of the street outside. It was eerily quiet, dimly lit, and faintly musty. The only similarity was the disorganized state of the shop, but instead of charmingly chaotic it just seemed old. Like the attic of an old home where the houselves have forgotten to dust. The man himself was similarly decrepit. Draco had heard that Dumbledore was more than a hundred years old, but Ollivander made him look spry and young. </p><p>“Willow, eleven and one eighth inch, unicorn hair core”, Ollivander recited, stepping out from the shadows. </p><p>Draco gave an alarmed half yell. He was not a fan of surprises. </p><p>“Quite flexible if I remember correctly, Ms.Black”</p><p>“Mrs. Malfoy now, it is very good to see you again.” She replied not looking the least bit annoyed with the mistake. </p><p>“Ah yes, this must be your son then.” His eyes pierced Draco for a moment. “You must be about school age.”</p><p>“Yes” Draco replied, trying not to let his nerves show. “I'll be starting Hogwarts this September!” </p><p>“Hogwarts is an admirable school, I went there myself many years ago”, said Ollivander proudly as he began to pull boxes off the shelf  “Let's start with dragon heartstring, like your father.”</p><p>Draco tried half a dozen wands before Ollivander finally found one that “chose” him. Hawthorn, exactly ten inches, unicorn hair core and reasonably springy, whatever that was supposed to mean. </p><p>Unicorn hair. Not dragon heart string. Draco was thrilled to have finally gotten his wand but he had hoped his wand would be dragon heart string like his father’s. Powerful like his father. Or perhaps something rare and mysterious, Acromantula like his grandfather. Not anything so mundane as Unicorn Hair. How would he explain it to his father?</p><p>Draco felt his fears dissipate under the sunshine, surrounded by the eclectic stores. They bought his books, potion supplies, telescope and a handsome eagle owl. It felt like old times again, just him and his mother out for a day together. She smiled when she looked at him and spoke kindly, sophisticatedly to acquaintances on the street. </p><p>They decided on Madam Malkin’s for his school robes. It wasn't the most upscale robe shop in Diagon Alley, but it held fond memories and they didn't have an appointment. </p><p>“Mrs. Malfoy!” the seamstress exclaimed. “It has been too long, how are you?”</p><p>“Very well, thank you. My son needs to be fitted for some school robes.” </p><p>“Of course!” She directed Draco to one of the fitting stools as she chatted away with his mother. </p><p>Draco didn't mind being left out of the conversation. He was deep in thought about the year to come. That is until he noticed his mother had grown quiet. His mother’s face was expressionless, tired.</p><p>“Mother?” Draco tried cautiously. </p><p>“Oh yes?” she looked at him “I was just lost in thought.” </p><p>Her smile did not quite reach her eyes and her voice sounded wrong.</p><p>“Darling, if you don't mind, I am going to get some tea. Meet me after you're done here,” she concluded, walking out the door purposefully.</p><p>Madam Malkin looked confused but had the good grace not to comment as she continued his fitting. </p><p>The bell tinkled and Draco looked up, hoping to see his mother walking through the door. But it was just a boy. </p><p>The boy looked to be about the same age as Draco but he was short and thin. His muggle clothes were clean but old and ill fitting. An oversized sweater despite the heat and those denim trousers that muggles were so fond of. His scuffed shoes poked out under the rolled pants. A pair of broken round glasses perched on his nose looking like they might slide off at any second.</p><p>He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again quickly, looking embarrassed. </p><p>“School robes, dear?” she asked kindly “I've got another young man being fitted up just now” She directed the other boy to take the stool next to Draco. </p><p>Draco looked at him curiously as he struggled to get the robe on correctly--he definitely didn't have much experience getting fitted for robes. </p><p>“Hello,” Draco began curiously “Hogwarts too?”</p><p>“Yes!” replied the boy eagerly</p><p>Draco cautiously struck up a conversation with the boy about Quidditch. He seemed nervous and shy. That was all right. Draco was thrilled to meet someone new that was his age. Someone that could be a new friend at Hogwarts. He didn't mind carrying the conversation. </p><p>As the seamstress rolled up the sleeves on the other boy’s robes a large purple shaped bruise was revealed on his forearm. The seamstress exchanged eye contact with Madam Malkin but didn't say anything as she finished pinning the robes. </p><p>Draco opened his mouth to say something but Madam Malkin spoke before he had figured out what to say. “Mr. Malfoy, you’re all finished. I’ll owl these along to you shortly along with the bill.” she said matter-of-factly, pulling the robe over his head. “Tell your mother it was nice to see her”.</p><p>As Draco stumbled out of the shop he looked back at the boy. He was pushing his messy black hair out of his eyes. </p><p>Draco saw a lightning-shaped scar.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Ending the summer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry Potter had always liked his lightning-shaped scar. He had asked his aunt where it came from once. She had told him it was from the car crash his parents died in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His parents didn’t die in a car crash. Hagrid had told him the story during their shopping trip. They were murdered in The War by a dark wizard. Somehow Harry had defeated the wizard, Voldemort, without even being able to properly do magic. This made him famous for some reason. People had recognized Harry’s scar on the street and shaken his hand, thanked him, and one even asked for his autograph. The attention made him feel uneasy. He was used to blending in, being ignored. The last thing he wanted was fame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hagrid’s story had left him with more questions than answers. In fact, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> he experienced that day left him with more questions than answers. Why did the Goblins run a wizarding bank? Why did wizards send their mail by Owl? Why did anyone work when they could do Magic? What was quidditch? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond boy in Madam Malkins’ had spoken at great length about quidditch teams. It had been nice but confusing. Harry couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise, but he didn't want to interrupt the new boy. Maybe they could be friends when they got to Hogwarts. Harry had never had a friend. Dudley scared them all away. Everything about the other boy was so polished and correct, his words, his walk, his neat almost white hair. He was taller than Harry. In truth he looked like he could be at least a year older, but Harry had always been small for his age. The Dursleys attributed this to his “runt genetics” but Aunt Petunia, his mother’s sister, looked nothing like him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to tell if life with the Dursleys had gotten better or worse since finding out he was a wizard. On one hand Dudley, Harry’s cousin, was mostly ignoring his presence instead of using him as a punching bag. On the other hand, it was very lonely. Uncle Vernon locked Harry away in his room only opening it for Petunia to bring him food and occasionally to attempt to “beat that nonsense out” of him. With the absence of his usual chores he spent the time reading his new textbooks, bonding with the snowy owl Hagrid bought him for his birthday, and daydreaming about leaving Privet Drive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day before his train to school, Harry asked his uncle if they would give him a ride to the station. His uncle agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be in London tomorrow anyway, otherwise we wouldn’t bother.” Uncle Vernon turned to him on his way out the door “funny way to get to a magic school. The train.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose all the magic carpets are booked,” Harry replied without thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncle Dursley’s face turned from red to purple as he closed the door behind him. “What have I told you about mentioning that… </span>
  <em>
    <span>weirdness</span>
  </em>
  <span> in my house?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>oOo </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s summer had gone slightly better than Harry’s. He saw his father once the next few weeks, a few days after the trip to Diagon Alley. His father had been dissatisfied with the Unicorn Hair wand, but that anger was mollified when he told Father about meeting Harry Potter. Draco was instructed to become friends with Potter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry Potter. He wasn't anything like Draco would have imagined. If he hadn't seen the lighting scar himself he wouldn't believe it had actually been the boy who lived. The savior of the wizarding world should have been a spoiled attention seeking celebrity. He should have been clothed in jewels with an entourage. At the very least he should have looked like the hero of an adventure novel, triumphantly wielding a sword or smirking at a villain. It's not like Harry Potter was ordinary, no, it was much worse than that. He had been clothed worse than the Malfoy House elves. He had looked small and unsure. Sure, the Potters weren’t a member of the sacred twenty eight but everyone knew that was just a technicality. The Potters were one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain. They had more than enough gold to rival the Malfoys. So why did he look like he had walked right out of a famine? Were they having one of those in the Muggle world again? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco dug through his school supplies pulling out a leather bound notebook. He had important goals for his first year at Hogwarts.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>Get sorted into Slytherin</span></em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Make friends (Harry Potter ?)</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Maintain excellent grades </span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Prepare to be on the quidditch team next year </span></li>
</ul><p> </p><p>
  <span>Four goals. That seemed achievable. It is of course better to have less goals so you can focus on getting them done. This year would be spectacular. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to focus on his school books, but he couldn't seem to get his mind off Harry Potter. He wished he would have introduced himself before rambling on about quidditch, maybe then he wouldn't have so many unanswered questions. He had tried to think of an excuse to stay in Madam Malkins’, but it had all happened so fast and he needed to find his mother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That look in her eye before she left the shop--he knew she must have been feeling ill again.  She hadn’t told him where she was going for tea after leaving, so he had scoured Diagon Alley in search of her. He had found her, eventually, in a cafe off the main street staring into a cold cup of tea. She hadn’t responded to his words. He knew enough not to make a scene. He had grabbed her by the hand and led her to the side of the building, She was in no state to apparate. It was a simple matter of calling one of the Malfoy house elves to apparate them back to the Manor and making sure she made it back to her room. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The chapters are going to get a little bit longer from here. Let me know if you guys want it broken up more :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Hogwarts Express</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hogwarts. Today was the day. Harry would finally be leaving Privet Drive. Coming back for the summer wouldn’t seem so bad if he spent the rest of the year away. His trunk had been packed for days; all that was left was to secure Hedwig in her cage and get to the station. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dragged his trunk down the stairs wincing at the sight of the small cupboard under the stairs. He loaded the trunk into the boot of the car and waited as patiently as he could for the Dursleys. Luckily the Dursleys had to be in London early that day and they left him at the station without so much as a goodbye with plenty of time to spare. It had been uncharacteristically nice of them to drop him off at the station, but perhaps they were as eager to be rid of him as he was of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kings Cross Station was </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The high ceiling was made of glass and the morning sun filtered in. It was crowded but the light and space above made it feel less claustrophobic. As he wandered around the station he began to worry. The ticket Hagrid gave him said platform nine and three quarters. But there was nothing between platforms nine and ten. It was obviously a cruel joke. Telling him he was special, that he would be able to leave the Dursleys. He felt the telltale sting of oncoming tears. How could anyone be so cruel? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry had spent his whole life feeling different from those around him. And now he was standing in a crowd with a trunk full of magic books, a pocket full of gold coins and a snowy owl. How could he possibly be any more different? Owl. Harry had an </span>
  <em>
    <span>owl</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He quickly looked around. There. There was a large family and they had an owl!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry discreetly pressed closer to listen in to their conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Packed with Muggles, of course,” complained a red- haired woman to the boys with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire family had flaming red hair and freckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry watched as the oldest boy walked straight into the dividing barrier. One by one the rest of the boys began to do the same. After the two identical twins Harry pushed through the crowd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” Harry began nervously </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello dear,” she responded with a motherly smile “First year at Hogwarts? Ron here is just starting too.” She gestured to a tall gangly boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Harry responded quickly. “It’s just I don't know how…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To get onto the platform?” she inserted helpfully. “Not to worry all you have to do is walk straight at the barrier, perhaps try it at a bit of a run if you're nervous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright” Harry agreed bravely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned towards the barrier and took a deep breath. He began to sprint towards the barrier. He was going to crash. He was going to hit the wall and fall. Everyone would see. But he didn't crash--he ran straight through the barrier and was greeted by the sight of a scarlet steam engine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The platform was packed with a mixture of people in odd outfits, regular clothes, and billowing robes. There were cats and owls of every color, some in cages and some free to wander about the station. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry pushed his cart through families saying tearful goodbyes and friends greeting one another. When he found an empty compartment near the end of the train, he put Hedwig inside and started the arduous task of lifting his trunk. It was heavy and packed full to the brim with books and supplies, he struggled to lift it into the compartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need a hand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one of the red- haired twins he had seen before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please,” Harry replied, embarrassment creeping up his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi, Fred,” he called. “Give me a hand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the twins’ help, the trunk was easily lifted and stowed away into the overhead compartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Harry said, panting from the exertion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The twins made it look so easy. He pushed the hair out of his eyes without thinking. Suddenly it was like Diagon Alley all over again as the twins’ eyes widened. He had forgotten about the scar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily the twins’ mother called them. Harry could see her through the window. She had pulled out a handkerchief and was dabbing tears from her eyes. The oldest boy, Percy, announced he had prefect duties to attend to.  Their mother lectured them on behaving at school but the twins were impatient to tell their story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess who we just met on the train?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry knew what was coming and shied away from the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know the black haired boy from the station?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Harry Potter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The youngest, a girl too young for Hogwarts, screamed with delight. “Can I meet him? Please mum?” she pleaded</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Ginevra, you will not goggle at that poor boy,” their mother responded sharply. “No wonder he was all alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train whistle sounded and the boys hurriedly kissed their mother goodbye before rushing to the train. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments later the door to the compartment slid open. It was the youngest boy, Ron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is anyone sitting there?” he asked, gesturing to the open seats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>oOo</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was warm and cozy in his silk sheets. One of the greatest joys in life is waking up without a care, he thought. He burrowed deeper into the bed--he wouldn't be able to sleep in so much once he got to Hogwarts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hogwarts. He was going to Hogwarts today. He leaped out of bed. (Why hadn’t anyone woken him up)? He struggled to get dressed in his sleepy daze. He couldn't be late on his first day at Hogwarts. As he rushed through the door with his trunk he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of his father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucius Malfoy was sitting in a chair near the entryway reading this morning's newspaper. He looked up at the sound of Draco’s door. He glanced at his expensive wrist watch. His face was stony, un-readable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where's Mother?” Draco began. His mother was taking him to the Hogwarts express this morning. They had been talking about it for weeks. She couldn't be sick. Not today. He was leaving for the year. She had promised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're late.” His father replied frostily, watching as Draco struggled to carry the large trunk down the stairs. “We must be off at once.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco glanced towards his mother’s room. Surely she would say goodbye? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his distracted state his foot caught on the hem of his robe and for a terrible moment he knew exactly what was about to happen. He reached out towards the banister to stop his fall but missed, his hand sliding between two of the bars. A terrible pain flashed through his right wrist. His trunk tumbled down the grand staircase and the noise echoed horribly in the marble room. Pulling his wrist out, Draco got to his feet. He descended the staircase, tears threatening to spill over his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father looked over at him in disgust “Malfoys do not show weakness.” He offered his arm.  “Let us be off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Father,” Draco responded in a trembling voice trying to regain his composure. He would be fine. This wasn't the worst pain he had been in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The constricting feeling of side along apparition overtook him , distracting him from the pain for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they appeared on the platform Draco smiled at the sight of the Hogwarts Express. His father took the trunk to the train, not wanting to be embarrassed in front of the crowd. Draco looked up at him. He didn't know what he had expected, maybe a goodbye, or even a scolding. But there was neither. Lucius simply turned and walked away from his son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was late. The compartments were all full. He looked for someone,</span>
  <em>
    <span> anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> he knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco!” an excited scream called out from behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned recognizing the voice. It was Pansy Parkinson, one of his oldest friends. Their parents were friends and he suspected they were hoping to arrange a marriage between the two of them, but Pansy was just a friend to him. Pansy, Theo, Blaise, and Draco had all been stuck together at balls and events that their parents dragged them along to since he could remember. Their parents were all aristocratic purebloods and had known each other for years. Blaise had even lived with the Malfoys for almost a year after his mother moved with her third husband to Germany. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco settled into their compartment happily. Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe were already eating some sweets from the trolly. Draco had met them before but they weren't close. Crabbe and Goyle’s parents were purebloods from plebeian families that were heavily suspected to be Death Eaters in The War. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course Draco knew that his father had followed the Dark Lord, but it was more about politics than actual fighting. Theo’s father had also been involved, but he hadn't been young then and was quite old now. He spent most of his time with mistresses or working on secret projects in his workshop. Theo spent most of his time in the Nott Manor poring over books. It was a running joke that he would end up in Ravenclaw but Draco hoped they would all be in Slytherin. Together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spent most of the ride chatting about their summers and laughing. When Draco mentioned that he had run into Harry Potter they were all thoroughly impressed. Eventually Draco decided to seek him out, perhaps Potter would join them. Greg and Vince followed him out of the compartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spoke to a few people on the train, looking for Potter. Eventually McMillan told Draco he’d seen potter in one of the compartments towards the back. Draco took deep breaths as they approached. He had grown up hearing all about Harry Potter-- he even owned a set of children's adventure novels based on the Boy Who Lived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it true?” he asked as he opened the compartment.  “They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment,” he finished pretending not to recognize the messy haired boy. “So it’s you?” he asked </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Potter replied, looking uneasily at Vince and Greg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it had been a bad idea to let them tag along. But they had looked so left out in their compartment, outsiders within the group of friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Crabbe and Goyle.” Draco introduced them helpfully. “And I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the other resident of the compartment made himself known. The ginger boy sniggered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think my name is funny?” Draco asked, getting angry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why couldn't he just stay out of it? Draco recognized the boy of course, the Weasleys were notorious among pure bloods and easy to spot due to the flaming hair. They used to have a seat on the Wizengamot before it had been gambled away in the early 1900s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to ask who </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>are,” Draco continued, his face heating up. “My father told me all about the Weasleys. Red hair, Freckles, More children than they can afford.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned away from Weasley to continue the conversation. Draco immediately knew he had made a mistake. Potter’s face had gone from curious to hard while he’d talked. Damn it! He couldn't seem to catch a break today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He held out his hand. Potter didn't take it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s face flushed with embarrassment. He couldn't show weakness in front of Vince and Greg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slytherins can’t be weak. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The welcome Feast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Minerva Mcgonagall had always loved the Welcome Feast and Sorting. Seeing the bright-eyed new students, full of potential, getting sorted into their Houses. Their families. It was the best part of her job, but also the worst. She often worried that while splitting them into houses gave them a sense of family at Hogwarts, it also caused divisions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some years the rivalry between the houses was friendly and fun. She’d have to escort Ravenclaws from Gryffindor Tower after celebrating a quidditch match late into the night. She would pretend not to notice Hufflepuffs teaching her Gryffindors how to get to the kitchens. But some years that friendly rivalry turned into a feud. Hexes in the hallway, bullying the younger years, even telling wild stories to faculty in the hopes of getting the other houses in trouble. The last few years that rivalry seemed to be building into something more, but of course Albus kept dismissing her worries. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why worry? They're just kids. They’ll work it out for themselves. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yeah right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had been fighting with Albus a lot as of late. Trewlaney kept scaring her students with death omens. More than half of her Gryffindors were failing their history of magic exams, and when she observed a class last year she had almost fallen asleep herself! Nearly a third of the students had ended up in the hospital wing last year from being hexed on their way to class. But no. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>mighty</span>
  </em>
  <span> Albus Dumbeldore couldn’t concern himself with those things. He was too busy  building obstacle courses to hide</span>
  <em>
    <span> magic relics</span>
  </em>
  <span> behind. If she hadn't known Albus for years she would be worried he was going senile. But she knew that he had always been… eccentric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The biggest argument to date had been about Harry Potter. For years she had suggested meeting with the boy to tell him about his parents. They had been in The Order of The Phoenix together, and Minerva had been a close friend of Euphemia Potter before her death. But Albus always told her it was the wrong time. She even gave him her signature piercing glare and he would just chuckle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Would you care for a lemon drop Minerva? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She couldn't stand them and he knew it. She had accepted it, knowing that she would deliver his Hogwarts letter like she did for all Muggle-born students. Instead of sending them in the mail, she would hand-deliver them, explaining to the parents what Hogwarts entailed and the other options available to them. Sometimes if a child had a lot of accidental magic she would show up sooner than the summer before their first year to reassure them. But Albus had gone behind her back and sent him the letter by Muggle mail! The portraits in Dumbledore's office were still eyeing her warily from the shouting she had done.  Rest assured she would be keeping an eye on the boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She strode up to the first years to give them their introduction before the sorting. Some looked bored, others excited, and some even terrified. It was with a shock that she recognized James Potter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry</span>
  </em>
  <span> Potter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked just like his father had at that age. It brought back so many memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She had been visiting Euphemia for tea and biscuits one afternoon when a loud crash upstairs sent them both rushing up. Opening the door she had been shocked to find all three of the other boys laughing hysterically at James’ expense. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Prongs! He’s Prongs!” Sirius exclaimed, clutching his side from the force of his laughter. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sirius, shut up!” James had responded trying, and failing, to hide from Minerva. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had sprouted antlers and couldn't seem to get them to go away. Minerva had immediately recognized the incomplete animagus transformation. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“James Potter!” she scolded. “What do you think you’re doing?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I'm sorry Aunt Minnie!” he had responded using his childhood nickname for her “Please get rid of them, I can't go back to school like this next week!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s got antlers!” Sirius gasped, still laughing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ve got no room to talk, you were stuck with a tail for two weeks before Rem fixed it for you!” Peter responded trying to stick up for James.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Remus was chuckling from behind his book obviously trying to find the right way to reverse the transformation. His lips formed a mischievous smirk “At least Sirius could hide his tail! What's Evans going to say when she sees you with antlers?” he teased.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please Aunt Minnie!!” James begged miserably. He always was sensitive when it came to Lily Evans. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She had sat down the four of them and questioned them about the Animagus training they were doing. They had answered her honestly, for having been caught in the act they had little choice. She agreed to help if any of them got stuck again but refused to assist in them learning how to transform. She didn't ask for any details, the boys were pranksters but harmless. She even agreed not to turn them in to Albus as long as they came to her if there were serious complications. Admittedly she’d always had a soft spot for the four Gryffindors. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn't even know if they had ever completed the transformations. It was advanced magic and they had all taken up fighting in The War after Hogwarts. Minerva had easily vanished the antlers, but from that day forward James’ hair had stuck up on the sides instead of the back in little tufts reminiscent of the antlers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked exactly like James had as a first year. Except, she noticed when he looked at her, his eyes. His eyes were exactly the same as Lily’s had been. He was so small! Surely smaller than James had been at eleven. She brushed the thought aside. Harry had </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> turned eleven, it was clearly just a case of an old woman's nostalgia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cleared her throat before continuing with the speech. Luckily it seemed none of the children had noticed her momentary lapse in concentration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After her short speech, she ushered the students into the Great Hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With all of her years of experience it was becoming rather easy to guess which students would end up in each house--children often followed in the footsteps of their parents. But every once in a while a student would surprise her. Sirius Black had been one of those, though she later thought that he was an excellent Gryffindor. This year the sorting that surprised her the most was Hermione Granger. Minerva had met her as she did all Muggle-borns when extending the invitation to Hogwarts. The girl was inquisitive, insightful, and valued knowledge above all else. She had seemed like a textbook Ravenclaw. In truth, Minerva was worried when Granger was sorted into Gryffindor-- how would she feel surrounded by the brave, and admittedly brash lions? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hush fell over the Hall as she read the name everyone had been waiting for </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potter, Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>oOo</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry could hardly believe the day he had just had. Everything was perfect. He had made a friend, maybe even a best friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron Weasley had seemed shy at first, even a little in awe of Harry. Within just a few short hours however it seemed like they had been friends for years. Ron told Harry all about his brothers, including the two that had already graduated Hogwarts. He had explained his frustration of always being given things secondhand, something which Harry could relate to after years of wearing Dudley’s cast offs. He came from an all-wizard family and told Harry all about quidditch. They had even been sorted into the same house before the feast, Gryffindor!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing Hogwarts itself was another great part of the day. It was a castle! Harry was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>living in a castle. There were friendly ghosts that floated through the walls, paintings that spoke to you, and staircases that moved. It was almost more than he could comprehend. Food just appeared on the plates in the Great Hall and the ceiling looked exactly like the night sky! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was almost afraid to close his eyes in case it all turned out to just be a dream. The best dream he had ever had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were just two dark spots in his adventure. The first was the blonde boy on the train, Malfoy. Harry had hoped they could be friends, but it wasn't meant to be. Malfoy was snobbish and condescending. He had been sorted into Slytherin, and everyone told him how dark Slytherins were. The second was his scar-- hiding it seemed impossible. People kept looking at it when he passed and once it had even hurt. When he was looking at the staff table before the feast he had made eye contact with one of the teachers, Snape, and he felt a searing pain through his scar unlike anything he had ever experienced. He immediately knew that Potions wasn't going to be his favorite class. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was with heavy eyes that he finally began to drift off to sleep. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't have very much experience writing fics, so please leave a comment to let me know what you like or what I can do better!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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